Another entry overdue,
Three years since i've sung a single tune.
At first i couldn't find my voice,
Then it grew distant, a whisper, white noise.
The clenching feeling within your throat, a dream, a nightmare, no words can come out.
And within a single artists stroke, something inevitably changes.
Words without meaning, screwed up on little paper post-it notes.
Littered around the desk, each one as worthless as the last.
And from somewhere most unexpected, words flow from pen to page, meaningful, if not comprehendable.
Three years it's taken me to reply to you, i'm doing well now, and it's all thanks to you.